


Thus Strangely are our Souls Constructed

by thenightcircus42



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightcircus42/pseuds/thenightcircus42
Summary: Gilbert reminds Anne of what makes her so special after the backlash against her newspaper article.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Thus Strangely are our Souls Constructed

**Author's Note:**

> Have not edited this at all yet so don’t be too harsh >.< Will try to post more before the episode tonight.

The woods darkened in the dying light, but still Anne walked on, arms winding through branches and feet tripping through roots. She reached the grounds of the former story club, her enchanted kingdom, her birthright. It was here she had indulged her love for writing, had dared to dream she was capable of one day matching the likes of Austen, Bronte, those dear childhood friends. 

But what good had her writing ever done, she mused. Her flair for the dramatic had only fueled her dangerous imagination, which she could see now had been folly. Wanting something to be true and knowing it could never be, that was a hard lesson she needed to learn. Her stint into journalism had not fared much better, it had not changed anyone’s mind about the Mik’maq, was only going to hurt Josie now. 

Matthew and Marilla has been so ashamed. The Andrews were furious at the perceived slander against their son. She oughtn’t to have meddled as Mrs. Lynde said. Even, dearest , darling Diana was pulling away, finding excuses to leave when they had walked home, or to slip away on the rare occasions she visited Green Gables. And Josie . . . Ruby had whispered Josie was refusing to leave her room. 

The worst had been Ms. Stacy, who had gone out of her way to allow the children the newspaper. She had arranged for the printing press and proofread hundreds of articles. When the teacher had announced the paper would no longer be printing, Anne wished the very earth would swallow her whole. Ms. Stacy had looked so very disappointed.

She felt anger surge in her, stupid Anne, foolish Anne, how had she thought her words could make any difference. She had been so certain it would work, emboldened by her midnight secrecy. There had been something thrilling about her subterfuge, working by the light of an oil lamp. The words had poured out as she let her emotions seep into the page, anger, sadness, frustration. Now, she had no words at all. None to defend herself against the words of reproach. None, now, when all she felt was a bitter hollowness. 

With a scream of rage she tossed away the last copy of that despised paper. She would never write again. Her words clearly did not matter to anyone. Anne collapses to the ground, weeping. 

The woods quieted and the light shuttered out. This was normally Anne’s favorite time of day, the space between the busyness of day and the stillness of the night. She had the disconcerting feeling she was alone, that the world had somehow ended, and hers was the only breath anywhere. 

——————————————————

Gilbert wandered through the woods on his way from the schoolhouse. He knew there was work to be done, farm chores and cooking dinner, and all that before reviewing for the exams. But his mind could not focus on anything but the article in his hand. 

“If all the world hated you and believed you wicked . . .” Anne had quoted. He could not shake the feeling she had been referring to more than Josie there. Moreover, she had been right, he knew that now. He could imagine it, Billy cornering Josie the way he had Anne, all those years ago. Intimidating, bullying, and forceful. He knew Billy Andrews was all those things. Yet he, like the rest of Avonlea, had been quick to brush away any meaningful dialogue. Josie Pye had always been bold, surely she was to blame too. Would Billy stoop so low as to lie?

It had taken Anne, empathetic, insightful, perceptive, Anne to read between the lines. To see the tension in Josie’s demeanor and the deceptiveness in Billy’s words. It had been Anne who pointed out that if this conversation did not happen now, Josie’s story would be repeated, over and over, leaving nothing behind but heartbroken and hapless girls who had so much to offer the world. It had happened before, thought Gilbert, with a pang of awareness, to Mary, suffering her whole life for a decision she had no part in making. It could happen to Delphine . . to Anne. 

He should never have interrupted her. He had always loved the way Anne fought for those around her, filling everything with such passion. He had to tell her how much her words meant. 

A scream ripped through the air and he was running, running blindly towards the sound. Anne, that was Anne, what could have happened to Anne.


End file.
